The Assassin's Fire
by Brawlers
Summary: The year is 1911. Amelia Auditore, direct descendant to Ezio and former assassin, is forced to hang up her robes and come to America to support her family. Upon losing her sister in the Triangle Shirtwaist fire, Amelia becomes an Assassin to avenge her.
1. Prologue

Prologue

She knelt on the sidewalk, staring blankly at the charred building before her. Smoke was still lightly billowing into the evening sky, contributing to the seedy air of New York City. Puddles glinted in the setting sun, turning them a brilliant orange, a reminder of the firefighters' vain attempts to control the blaze. The bodies had long been cleared away, but the blood still stained the sidewalk. She prayed and hoped in vain the day had been nothing more than a horrific nightmare, but those wretched crimson stains were evidence of its cruel reality. Her numb mind was distantly aware of the burns stinging her arms, the ash that caked her face, the strange looks she got as people on their evening strolls walked by.

"How terrible. Poor thing, she was one of the lucky ones," she heard a woman whisper to her husband. Tears did not come to her eyes. She felt no fear, no anger, and no grief. Nothing. Any love, any hope that she possessed had burned into ash and blown away in the wind. The sharp pain of a burn on her arm forced her to look down and inspect the wound. It ran from her elbow to her hand. Her hand… It had been clenched into a fist, but a nagging voice within told her to open it and look at her palm. As she did so, a small ember of rage sparked in her chest. As she stared at her palm, she was reminded of something that was once mere childhood fantasy. As she stared at her palm the ember began to burn hotter and stronger, and that fantasy seemed more of a possibility than ever before. The flame was not just one of rage, but hate and the desire to avenge what had been wrenched away from her. As she stared at her palm, the ancient symbol of the Brotherhood- branded on her hand since her eighteenth birthday-stared back at her. It was filthy and stained with grim red blotches, but it reminded her of whom she was and what she had to do. She reached out and placed her palm on the small bloodstain before her, swearing that she would not rest until justice was served and the price was paid for in blood. Why not? After all, _nothing is true; everything is permitted._


	2. Chapter 1

***Author's note: This story is not going to be historically accurate, but I will do my best. When the characters speak in Italian their words will be in italics. **

Chapter 1

_Two months later…_

"Working late tonight, Teo?" the old man said as he donned his black trench coat. He had a kind but weary face with intelligent eyes that twinkled behind thick spectacles. The young man he addressed looked up from the enormous stack of papers piled high on the desk he was working at, smiling sheepishly. He, like the old man, had clear, intelligent eyes, though his were green as opposed to his boss's brown ones. He had a hansom face with stubble that was just becoming visible on his chin. The bangs of his glossy black hair formed teasing curls at his brow.

"Yes, sir. I want to finish these papers before the stack gets any higher," Teo said, wincing from writer's cramp as he flexed hand. He spoke with a strong Italian accent. The old man smiled and gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder.

"Good lad. Help yourself to some tea; I keep it in the bottom shelf of my desk," he offered as he started for the door.

"Thank you sir, that's very kind," Teo replied politely.

The old man was half way to the entrance when he paused, scratching his head quizzically.

"Teo, do you have a moment?"

Curious, Teo stood and walked over to his boss's side. The man gestured to the large window in the front of the office, which provided a clear view of the street. There was a bench directly in front of the window, and upon it sat a mysterious figure. Judging from its slender build and clothing, it was a young woman. Teo checked the clock. It read 10:30 PM.

"What on earth is she doing out there this time of night?"

"That woman has been sitting there since we opened. I tried to speak to her, but she just sat there with her head bowed. I'm worried that she might be a sneakthief of some sort. I'm going out the back. Holler to me if she moves," he explained. He paused and looked at Teo seriously. "There's a pistol in the drawer next to the tea. Don't be afraid to use it."

Teo chuckled. "For the love of God, what else do you have hidden in your desk, an army survival kit?" His smile faded at his manager's glare.

"This is New York. One can never be too careful," he said with a stern glint in his eye. Teo gulped involuntarily and nodded. With that the old man walked to the back of the mail office, opened the door, and tipped his hat one last time.

"Take care of yourself, Teo." Teo wished his manager goodnight and returned to his desk. He worked doggedly for half an hour, his brow furrowed with concentration as he fought off the exhaustion that was starting to set in on him. The longer he filled out the tedious forms, the more often he found himself looking up at the strange woman outside. Perhaps it was because he was bored out of his skull; perhaps it was because it was the only remotely interesting thing to happen to him in months, perhaps it was pure curiosity; whatever the reason, he was intrigued. As questions circled in his head, he was unable to concentrate on the dull busywork before him. Finally he threw down his pen with frustration and stood. He prepared a cup of hot tea, the whole time he was unsure of the wisdom of his actions. If she was indeed a sneakthief, at the least he could get robbed, and at the worst…well, he shuddered and pushed the thought aside. As he took the cup of tea, he spied the gun in the drawer, light glinting off the deadly black barrel. Teo had never fired a gun in his life, but he grabbed the weapon with a shaky hand and put it in his pocket. As his manager had said, it _was_ New York. He took a deep breath, unlocked the front door, and stepped outside. Teo was careful to keep out of striking range as he confronted in front of the figure on the bench. She did not react to his presence, did not so much as twitch. The woman looked to be about his age and wore a simple, slightly tattered, dark blue dress. A black hat pulled low over her eyes concealed her face, but he could just make out the dark hair that fell around her shoulders.

"Excuse me, miss, is there anything I can do for you?" he asked. After a short silence he cleared his throat, shifting his weight back and forth.

"I, uh, am working late tonight so I may be able to help you." Still the woman was silent. A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"_Do you speak English?"_ he asked in Italian. At this the woman seemed to stiffen, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell for sure. Growing frustrated, Teo figured she must be asleep and reached out to grab her shoulder. He jumped visibly and almost spilled the tea when she grabbed his wrist. Her grip was gentle but surprisingly firm as she pushed his hand away. She finally spoke in a voice that was so soft that he had to lean in to hear her.

"Yes, I do," was all she said. Unsure of what to do, he offered the cup to her.

"I thought you might be cold so I uh, made you this tea. Please, at least tell me why you are out here so late," he said gently. She heaved a sigh and took the cup.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long should it take for a letter arrive here from _Italia_?" she said, her voice a soft monotone. Teo suddenly understood: she was waiting for a letter from her family, and clearly the news was grave. He thought for a long moment.

"About two weeks, but the ship currently on its way to America was caught in a gale and got delayed for a few days."

"Is it alright?" she asked, badly concealing the panic in her voice.

"Oh yes, in fact it's going to arrive in tomorrow," he quickly reassured her. "It just explains why whatever you're waiting for hasn't arrived yet." Mustering up all of his courage, he sat down on the bench next to her. She shifted away slightly, not looking at him.

"If you give me your information, I can personally deliver your letter to you." Normally he would never offer such an act of charity to a stranger. There was just something so…wretched about the strange young women that he couldn't help himself. He pulled out the notebook and pen he always carried in his pocket and offered it to her. Retaining her stony silence she took the notepad and pen, neatly scrawled an address, and handed it back.

"I'll deliver it as soon as it comes through, I promise," he said kindly. She handed the cup back to him, and rose stiffly from the bench. He tried to catch a glimpse of her face but the shadow of her hat kept it concealed.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" she asked, voice quavering slightly. The question caught him off guard. He thought for a moment.

"New York City is a hard place to make it, especially for immigrants like us. I am very fortunate to have this job, and it would be shameful not to help someone that needed it." He chuckled. "Besides, that paperwork was killing me and I needed a break."

"Thank you, sir. I will remember this," she said softly.

"Just do me one favor," he said. She turned and faced him for the first time, nodding for him to continue.

"Tell me your name."

There was a long silence. He began to doubt she would tell him so he stood and headed for the door.

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you anyways," he sighed.

"Amelia."

"Huh?"

"My name is Amelia Auditore," she said, her strong voice ringing with pride.

He gave a little bow.

"Teodosio Zarenchi, at your service. Call me Teo"

"Goodnight, Teo, thank you again," she said. He looked down at the scrap of paper. He grimaced upon realizing her home was on the sketchier side of town.

"Hey are you going to get home-" he looked up and was shocked to see that the woman had melted away into the night. "-okay," he finished with a sigh and went back into his office.

Sitting back down in his desk, he groaned at the still-high stack of paperwork. As he forced himself to go back to work, her voice still rang clear and strong in his head.

_My name is Amelia Auditore._


End file.
